Chains of the Abyss
by Archontruth
Summary: A young blood elf maiden away from home for the first time is abducted, and spirited away by servants of an Old God with a sinister purpose. One-Shot


The freighter _Sensible Avarice_ steamed across the Great Sea, its wide hull packed with passengers and cargo. Driven by tireless engines of goblin manufacture that chugged away day and night, it was roughly halfway along its journey from the blood elf port of Silvermoon City to Ratchet, the largest port in central Kalimdor. Out in the open ocean, the freighter was sailing a slow arc around the northern edge of the Maelstrom before turning south towards Ratchet.

As the red sun sank low on the horizon and stained the ocean crimson, a young blood elf maiden stood alone on the bow. Her long, straight hair that fell halfway down her back was as red as the setting sun and lustrous, shining when the light struck it directly. Her visage was breathtakingly lovely, her features fine and angular. The young woman had an aristocratic air about her, and her dress of ivory silk was embroidered with gold thread, the expensive fabric whispering over her slender frame when she moved.

Everything about the blood elf girl was fresh and innocent. Her manner was open and kind, if regal, aware of her exalted station in life and taking the respect of others as nothing less than her due. Her wide eyes, glowing with a pale green light, were curious. Her delicate hands were soft and smooth, unworn by labor. The cool sea breeze washed over her, and she shivered, drawing her cloak of pale green silk tighter around her shoulders.

As the sun dipped to touch the sea and stained the sky and water red, the elven girl clasped her hands around the pendant she wore around her neck. It was a solid gold disc with a stylized, rayed sun made of rubies on its surface. Taking a deep breath of the fresh, salty air, she began to sing. The girl's voice was pure and light on the ocean air as she sang a hymn of parting to the setting sun in Thalassian, the language of the elves. It was a daily ritual for members of her sect, who revered the sun as the purest physical manifestation of the Light. The jeweled pendant she wore had been a gift from her father, on the day she reached her majority and became a full member of the faith.

At the beginning of the voyage the crew of the _Sensible Avarice_ had stopped to stare when the girl came on deck to sing to the rising and setting sun, but after weeks at sea they'd gotten used to it, merely enjoying the song – for the girl had a beautiful voice – while going about their duties.

When the sun sank below the horizon and the elven girl's devotion came to an end, a hand fell on the elven girl's shoulder. "Come, Ana," a rich, feminine voice addressed her. "Let us retire to our cabin; the night will be cold."

Anastaza Lightsong, known as Ana to her family and closest friends, glanced over her shoulder, smiling fondly at her mother. Rineza Lightsong was taller than her daughter, but their features were similar, though Rineza's face was more mature. Rineza's hair was a pale blonde and only as long as her shoulders, and beneath her pale blue silk dress her body was lean, muscular and bore more than a few scars. Her hands were callused from long years of combat. Before being pursued and wooed by Anastaza's father, a wealthy nobleman, Rineza had been a ranger, and neither motherhood nor marrying into the nobility had diminished her skill.

"Of course, mother," Ana answered, and the two elven women headed below decks. As always when they left their cabin, the eyes of every male nearby followed the pair of beauties, one mature, the other freshly budding. No one did more than look, however. A pair of hard-faced, veteran blood elf warriors accompanied the women, their personal guards. In addition, Ana's father owned the ship, and the goblin captain and his officers knew that their safety was a top priority.

Ana and her mother were travelling to Ratchet to meet Ana's father, Syrus Lightsong, who was head of a noble house and one of the wealthiest elves in Silvermoon. Prior to the fall of Quel'thalas, Syrus had pursued investments outside of the elven lands for decades. He had gladly traded with goblins, humans and dwarves, bucking the isolated tendencies of other high elves. As a result, his holdings had survived the war against the Burning Legion far better than those of other elves, who lost most of what they had when Arthas Menethil sacked Quel'thalas.

Syrus owned the _Sensible Avarice_ and a number of other ships in partnership with a goblin trading prince. He had travelled to Ratchet to meet with that business partner. Rineza and Ana were travelling to meet him for a family trip to tour Kalimdor, the Horde's seat of power. Ana was excited, as it was her first trip outside the borders of Quel'thalas. A servant brought dinner to their cabin, the largest on the ship and with wide windows looking out over the ship's wake. After eating Ana and Rineza turned in for the night.

Hours later, in the depth of the night, Ana woke. Listening to her mother's quiet breathing and the sounds of the sea outside, she tried to return to sleep, but rest eluded her. Eventually, she gave up and rose from bed, dressing quietly and exiting the cabin. She paused in the hallway outside. Her mother had cautioned her to never leave the cabin without one of the guards, but she didn't see why they should have to suffer for her insomnia, and no one on the ship had been anything less than deferential, so she slipped past the smaller cabin the guards shared, and climbed the ladder onto the deck. With her warm cloak wrapped around her to ward off the evening chill, Ana moved to the side rail, watching the dark waves and the beautiful expanse of stars in the sky.

A few of the crew members on the night's watch noted the girl's presence, but simply ignored it. She wasn't in the way, and if the owner's daughter wanted to walk the deck at night, it was no business of theirs.

After watching the stars for a while, Ana felt weariness drag at her. Shivering in the cool air, she made her way back to the passage below decks. She stepped through the doorway at the top of the stairs and was enveloped in darkness. Sensing a movement in the shadows, Ana was starting to turn when something heavy struck the back of her head. Ana's vision exploded with stars, then faded as unconsciousness claimed her.

A lanky, blue-skinned arm caught Ana before she could fall. A green-haired male jungle troll emerged from the shadows, fierce yellow eyes looking around to make sure the attack was unseen. Satisfied that there had been no witnesses the troll, named Murtogh, tucked the sap he had struck Ana with in his belt and carried her down the stairs, ducking into an side hallway and then into a small, empty room, closing the door behind him. Grinning around his long, curving tusks, he eyed his prize in the room's dim orange lantern light.

Ana groaned, stirring, and Murtogh wasted no time forcing a wadded up rag into her mouth, securing it in place with knotted strip of cloth wrapped around her head. As her eyelids fluttered he quickly and securely bound her hands behind her back with rope, then her feet.

Ana's head was splitting as she came to, and her mouth was filled with a foul taste. Her cry of disgust was efficiently muffled, however, barely a whimper. When she tried to move, she felt the unfamiliar sensation of coarse rope digging into her skin. Ana's glowing green eyes went wide with shock as she realized her predicament. When she saw the hulking, grinning troll looming over her, she let loose a muffled squeal of surprise. She recognized him for a moment as one of the sailors; he wore stained, grimy leathers, and she could smell his unwashed body.

After a moment, Ana's brow furrowed, and her expression became angry as her shock faded. How _dare_ this lowly worm strike her, how dare he lay a hand on her person! She tried to tell Murtogh how much trouble he was in, but couldn't manage much more than quiet, indignant mumbles.

Murtogh laughed softly at the sight of the diminutive, bound elf girl managing to look down her nose at him while tied up and lying on the floor. Grasping her arms roughly he pinned her down, looming over her. "Mos' elf girlies be scared by now, lil' princess. Guess da 'nobility' don't even got da sense fo' dat," the troll offered in his people's peculiarly accented dialect of the Common tongue. Noting that Ana's awkward position lying on the deck with her arms behind her back had stretched the white silk of her dress tight across her chest, he leered and roughly groped her breast through the smooth fabric.

Ana's muffled screech of fury and the humiliation on her face only made Murtogh laugh again. No one had _ever_ dared to touch her like that, not even the sons of nobles and princes who escorted her to balls in Silvermoon! She soon realized she was in for a worse shock when the troll leaned back and unlaced his breeches. Ana's cheeks turned almost as red as her flaming tresses when he freed his stiff member from his pants. Its base nestled in a thatch of green hair; it was as long and almost as wide as her forearm, with a wide head.

For a horrified moment Ana feared he actually meant to rape her, and contemplated the damage that… _thing_ would do to her, but Murtogh only stroked it with his hand, looking at her with a twisted smile. Then he reached out and grabbed a handful of her long red hair, and Ana watched, mortified as he rubbed her silky tresses up and down his shaft. Ana wanted to sink into the deck and die of humiliation as the lowly troll pleasured himself with her hair, grunting like an animal.

Soon Murtogh's lanky frame stiffened. Whitish goop spurted from his member, and to Ana's horror and disgust it covered her face and chest, sticking to her skin and staining the ivory silk of her dress. Her nose wrinkled at the strange, pungent odor. Realizing what the foul troll had done, she had to fight tears, determined not to give him the satisfaction.

Silently Murtogh tucked himself away and re-laced his trousers. Giving Ana another leer, he murmured, "Wish we had mo' time, elf girlie. Would love to really test ya' goods, but time waits for no troll." Ignoring her horrified shudder, he picked Ana up and slung her over his shoulder, indifferent to her struggles and muffled cries. He carried her out the door and through a deserted hallway. Ana fought, kicked and tried to make as much noise as she could, but there was no one nearby to hear her. Her captor carried her through another door and out onto a lower deck just forward of the engines and near the water line. Unceremoniously, he dropped her on the deck and leaned against the bulkhead. Thinking about his words earlier, talking about time and other elves, Ana started to panic. Was she being kidnapped? Cursing herself for going out without a guard, Ana vowed that she would never go anywhere again without an escort if only she could get out of this safely! She fought against the ropes until pain from skin rubbed raw forced her to stop, but the troll sailor knew his knots, and Ana was forced to admit defeat, panting and glaring at her captor.

Ana froze when she heard something new over the lapping of waves against the hull; the hiss of something moving through the water. A moment later, glancing at the rail, she saw scaled hands shoot out of the water and grasp the rail, dragging nightmarish, sinuous forms up and over the rail onto the deck. Ana felt terror that dwarfed being molested by an uncouth troll as a pair of naga loomed over her. One was male, a bestial, almost draconic head topping a heavily muscled, finned body that tapered down to a long, flexible tail. He was massive, towering above the troll and gripping a golden trident that was longer than Ana was tall and with a haft as wide around as her thigh.

The other naga was smaller and female, but if anything more fearsome. Her eyes burned red with a fearsome inner light. More than a dozen black-scaled snakes erupted from her head in place of hair. Her face was recognizably elven, her body covered with scales that went from a deep purple on her back to a pale, creamy violet on her face, breasts and belly.

It was the female naga, a witch judging by her head full of snakes, who moved forward, gripping Ana's chin painfully. Thoughtful red eyes met terrified green ones. Then the naga let Ana go and her head thumped back onto the deck. "This one will do," the witch informed Murtogh in a rich, mature voice that could have belonged to an elf save for the hissing undertone. "Your payment will be waiting for you in Ratchet, as usual."

Murtogh nodded calmly, levered himself up from his spot by the wall and disappeared into the ship without a word. Ana watched him go with a mixture of fury and fear. The impudent troll had the gall to _sell_ her to naga!

Then the witch loomed over her, and Ana couldn't contain a fearful whimper. "I am Felene Bloodmist, elf girl, and you belong to me now. The less you fight this, the less it will hurt." Ana's eyes widened in alarm when Felene extended a hand wreathed in red arcane energy and wrapped it around Ana's throat. Pain shot through her as the naga's magic burrowed into her body, and Ana thrashed in her grip, tears streaming down her cheeks. Then it was done, and Felene let Ana slump to the deck with a groan. She blinked in surprise when the naga witch sliced through her gag with one sharp talon and tugged the rag from her mouth. "You won't need that anymore."

As soon as the gag was gone Ana filled her lungs and screamed. No sound emerged. Perplexed, Ana tried to form words, but nothing happened. She realized Felene was looking at her with amusement, and the soft hissing breaths of the naga warrior beside her were probably laughter. "Bring her," Felene commanded the male and then slipped over the side and into the water.

Ana tried to squirm away, but the naga just snorted and picked her up, slinging Ana over his shoulder like a bag of grain. Then he slithered over to the rail, and Ana had one last glimpse of the_ Sensible Avarice_ before the naga leapt overboard and the waves closed over her head.

Holding her breath and wincing at the shock of the cold water around her, Ana felt growing alarm as she watched the surface diminish in the distance. The naga carrying her was diving! _They do remember that elves need air to breathe, right?_ Ana thought worriedly. But her lungs started burning, and her captor dove ever deeper. _Oh Light, I'm going to drown,_ Ana realized, panic shooting through her. Heedless of the ropes cutting into her skin, Ana began to thrash desperately, fighting to get free of this naga dragging her down to her doom, but it was no use. He only tightened his grip on her waist, and her struggles couldn't budge him.

When blackness started eating at the edges of Ana's vision she couldn't hold her breath anymore. The air exploded from her lungs, and her body inhaled reflexively. Expecting a lungful of water, Ana blinked in surprise when fresh air filled her lungs. Gasping, she discovered that each breath brought blessed relief. Then it hit her. Felene hadn't just stolen her voice; she had cast a water breathing spell on Ana as well!

Looking around, Ana realized she couldn't see the surface, or anything else. Black water surrounded her, the only sensation was that of movement as her naga captor carried her deeper and deeper. Relieved of her immediate concern for breathing, Ana thought of a more worrisome question: what was going to happen to her? Felene had bought her, and it sounded like she wasn't the first elf that Murtogh had kidnapped for her, but why? Ana's imagination conjured a number of unpleasant reasons why the naga might want her, none of them encouraging. Ana forced herself not to think about it, and was distracted when she noticed faint light from below. Twisting around in her captor's grasp, she was able to see the outlines of a number of underwater structures below them, light shining from their small, round windows.

The naga swam down among the structures, which resembled huge seashells, darting under one and then up, jumping out of the water into an air-filled chamber. Ana's captor dropped her on the floor, shivering and soaked to the bone, her wet dress clinging to her. Looking around, Ana saw she was inside one of the shells. The walls were pearlescent and reflected the light from half a dozen blue-green globes of light attached to the walls in different places. There were some tiny round windows, and the only entrance was the watery opening in the floor where they had entered. As she watched, a second male naga emerged from the water, similar in appearance to the one who had dragged Ana down from the surface.

Felene waved a hand, and Ana felt the earlier spell on her unravel. "What do you want from me?" Ana asked when her voice worked again.

"Be silent, elf. Prepare her, it is almost time for the ritual," Felene instructed the pair of males, who picked Ana up and carried her to where Felene pointed, ignoring the elven girl's struggles and complaints. The two of them placed Ana on an ominous-looking altar of dense black coral. They cut the ropes that bound her, only to stretch her out on the altar, taking positions on either end and holding her hands and feet.

"Let me go you scaly creeps!" Ana fought their grip, but they were both myrmidons, more than twice her height and probably four times her weight. Their biceps were as thick as her waist, and they didn't even seem to notice her struggles.

Giving up on that, Ana lay panting on the altar, watching as Felene slithered over to a sturdy-looking chest of golden metal. The ornate lock opened at her touch, and she reverently withdrew a rod the length of her forearm from the velvet padding within. Ana gasped when Felene turned to her and she got a good look at it. The rod was made of what looked like bone, although it was ebony and reflected an oily sheen when the light hit it. At the top was a fist-sized gemstone of deep violet clasped by talons of bone, and when Felene slithered closer, Ana could see a pale purple light roiling and seething in the depths of that gem. She didn't know what the rod was, but she wanted nothing to do with it, and the sinister smile on Felene's scaled face only heightened her fear. The naga witch loomed over her, cradling the rod in her hands.

"W-what are you doing?" Ana asked, her voice trembling.

"This is the Tear of N'Zoth," Felene told her. "I'm going to give you the greatest gift of our master, little elf. You will serve Queen Azshara's will, as your ancestors the Highborne did ten thousand years ago." The naga witch extended the rod, pointing the evil-looking gemstone at Ana. Felene chanted in a guttural, harsh language that stung Ana's ears, and the violet light in the gem grew brighter. Abruptly, a brilliant ray shot from the rod and hit Ana's body. The blood elf maiden screamed as pain wracked her slender form. The myrmidons let go of her, but it didn't matter; she couldn't move. Every inch of her body burned with agony, and she convulsed helplessly.

Ana drew each breath just to scream again, her eyes bulging from their sockets. She'd never felt pain like this before, never _dreamt_ she could hurt this much. "Stop!" she screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please, Light, no more!" Her skin was on fire, her muscles straining and bones creaking as agony sliced through her entire being. Even half-mad with pain Ana could feel powerful and dark magic seeping into her soul, and as much as she tried to fight it, her magic-hungry aura soaked up the power coursing into her like a sponge. Her suffering spiked past a level any being could endure and she fell into merciful unconsciousness.

* * *

Ana ached all over when she woke up. Slow, steady movement made her realize she was being carried, and when she could open her stinging eyes, Ana discovered that her wrists and ankles were bound once again, and she was drifting through the water, flanked on either side by a muscular myrmidon who held her arms in a firm grip. Looking around desperately Ana couldn't see anything around her, just black water in all directions. The myrmidons were lit only by a dim purple light glistening off their scales, and Ana looked around for the light source before glancing at her own body and gasping in horror. The purple light was coming from her skin, where arcane symbols of shocking complexity now shone from beneath every inch of exposed skin, and the purple glow from under her clothes indicated that the designs extended over her whole body. Ana shuddered, fighting the twin urges to scream and cry.

She'd seen blood elves that looked like this before, with green traceries of demon energy on their skin. They were the unfortunates who succumbed to their arcane addiction and absorbed large quantities of fel magic in a desperate attempt to quiet the cravings. Most died, and those who survived withdrawal were never the same afterwards.

Being dragged through the dark water by the myrmidons with nothing else to do, Ana could feel the dark magic from the Tear of N'Zoth inside her, infesting her soul, and felt nauseous. As they swam, Ana started hearing quiet whispers that eluded her understanding; at first she looked at the myrmidons, trying to figure out if they were communicating, but they weren't looking at her. As she was dragged along, the whispers got louder.

Ahead of them, something visible appeared in the gloom. First it was a dim purple glow, and then the gray stone of a rock ledge appeared, and the myrmidons dragged Ana down towards the light. On the edge of the rock ledge that looked down over a huge abyss beneath them, Felene Bloodmist waited along with eight more myrmidons. When Ana's captors joined the others, she saw something that distracted her from her terror and the incomprehensible, eldritch whispers echoing inside her skull.

The purple glow she had seen came from four other prisoners whose bodies were covered with the same markings that decorated Ana's body. All of them were women: there were two blood elves like Ana, one blonde and wearing the leathers of a rogue, the other a raven-haired paladin, if her battered armor and torn tabard were an indication. The last two prisoners were a human who appeared to be a mage, and a night elf who was surely a warrior judging by her scars and heavy plate armor.

The other two blood elves met Ana's gaze, and she saw the same mix of fear, anger and confusion that she was feeling. Closer to the other prisoners, the whispering in her head was getting louder, and she could almost understand it. The human woman was unconscious in the arms of her captors, her long brown hair drifting in the current. Her skin was an unhealthy shade of gray, and her body convulsed occasionally. Ana guessed that the human was not adapting well to whatever Felene had done to them. The purple-skinned night elf was conscious, but the drawn look on her face was indicative of someone in a great deal of pain, and her expression was half disgust and half rage. She was bound not with rope but heavy chains, and still struggled against the grip of her captors, trying to kick them and occasionally earning harsh blows to her green-haired head in an effort to quiet her.

_All of you have been prepared for the Master's gift._ Felene's lips moved and Ana's head snapped up as she heard the witch's voice in her mind._ Now you will face the Trial of the Deep._ At a signal from the witch, the myrmidons holding Ana dragged her to the edge of the underwater cliff. One let go of her and bent over, picking up something that had been waiting there. Ana felt cold steel close around her ankle, and saw the manacle was connected by a chain to a large iron ball. She realized with horror what they planned as the pair grabbed her arms and swam out over the abyss, carrying her out over the black gulf. _No! No, no, no!_ Ana thought frantically as the 'Trial of the Deep' became clear. From the corner of her eye, Ana could see her fellow captives, each with their own ball and chain, being carried alongside her. Then, the myrmidons let go, and the weight around her ankle pulled Ana down swiftly.

Ana struggled desperately to free herself as she sank rapidly into the abyss, but to no avail; she could only watch as she plummeted downward. The other four prisoners had been released at the same time, and Ana could see the fear on their faces lit by the purple runes carved into their flesh. Ana envied the human mage, who was still unconscious, unaware of her fate.

Ana lost track of his long they sank before she became aware that they were not alone. At the edges of the light cast by the runes on their flesh, something was moving, circling them. At first Ana wondered if the naga were diving with them, but then one of the shapes came closer, and Ana saw a scaled, silvery form flash by that dwarfed any of the naga. A moment later Ana's lips parted in a silent scream as a sinuous, scaled body as large as she ship she'd been kidnapped from swam into their midst and a mouth full of teeth as big as ogres closed around the blood elf paladin, The giant monster swallowed the poor woman whole and darted away into the dark as quickly as it had come.

Ana felt panic overwhelm her, eating away at her sanity. _I'm going to die! I'm going to be eaten by a giant fish!_ The hideous monster returned seconds later, black eyes as bag as Ana herself locking onto the unconscious human this time and biting her in half, killing her before she ever woke. Her upper half, freed of the metal weight, drifted off into the dark, the arcane runes lighting her flesh going dark.

As Ana watched, the blonde rogue managed to slip free of the ropes binding her arms. Ana silently cheered her on as the dexterous fighter went to work on the lock holding the weight around her ankle with a slim lock pick. The rogue never saw the new monster that loomed behind her, this one fat and brown and warty, a glowing bulb hanging from a tendril sprouting from its head. Its distended jaws closed around the poor rogue just as she freed herself from the weight, consuming her in her moment of triumph.

Ana watched with numb horror as the fat fish's beady black eyes lighted on her and if swam towards her. _This is it – I'm going to die._ She glanced over at the night elf warrior, and saw the sadness and resigned anger in the other woman's eyes. Then, suddenly, the foul whispers in the back of her mind that she'd almost forgotten about got much louder.

Ana looked back at her approaching doom just in time to see a purple tentacle thicker around than her waist, like the limb of some unimaginably huge octopus, shoot up from the depths _below them_ and wrap around the warty brown monster, crushing it and dragging it down into oblivion. She exchanged a stunned look with the armored night elf before two more tentacles emerged, one wrapping around each of them. Ana winced as the hard edges of the suckers on the tentacle cut into her skin, but she wasn't crushed as the fish had been, only drawn down ever quicker into the black along with the night elf.

Soon the purple glow of the runes on her skin was drowned out by a deeper violet light coming from a thousand orbs of purple light below her. In their terrible radiance Ana could see the bottom of the trench, and the horror as old as Azeroth itself that dwelt there. Each shining sphere was an eye the size of a house, and they were beyond counting. Every eye radiated horrible, magnificent power like the Tear of N'Zoth, but a thousand times more powerful. They were embedded in a dark, slimy body that filled the entire, massive abyssal trench and sprouted hundreds of tentacles that stretched into the dark.

Drawn ever farther downward, Ana found that she was being drawn ever closer to one of the thousand terrible eyes. Her heart hammered as though it would explode, and nameless terror sank its fangs into her mind. Ana was silently babbling nonsense and couldn't stop.

The tentacle drew Ana close enough to the eye that seemed to be her destination. She stared into it in helpless fascination. The massive orb moved, its slit pupil focusing on her, and in that instant Ana looked into N'Zoth, and N'Zoth looked back.

The frail, perishable soul that was Anastaza Lightsong crumbled inside its mortal shell and was remade in an instant by the will of an Old God.

* * *

Redrush Village was a remote settlement on the northwestern coast of Quel'thalas. Far from the lands ravaged by the Scourge invasion, Redrush sat on the edge of the lush elven forest, its cottages and villas stretched out along the beach, several docks extending out into the waves. Fishermen plied their trade on the waves as others gathered the bounties of the forest or tilled the rich fields nearby. Little had changed for the elves in this remote corner of their kingdom. They were blood elves now, but other than the new name and new allegiance to the Horde, they lived much as they had before the fall Silvermoon to Arthas.

The elves of Redrush Village were late into their celebration of the Summer Solstice, a festival older than the kingdoms of Lordaeron, feasting and dancing as the sun set in the west over the ocean and turned the sea and sky red. Because the sun stained the waves and bathed the village with evening's crimson light, not even the sharpest of elven eyes spotted the dozens of spiny fins that cut the surface of the ocean, moving with purpose towards the village.

It was the song that the elves heard first; a beautiful, ethereal music that cut through their own instruments and raised voices effortlessly. The land bound music stopped, as did all conversation. All activity in Redrush Village ceased, the keen eyes of the elves going blank and cloudy, their movements fading to an eerie stillness.

Halfway submerged in the waves just offshore, a young naga siren turned her face to the brilliantly colored sky, her voice pouring forth in wordless song. The crest of fins that started at the crown of her head and trailed down either side of her back was a deep, vibrant crimson like the setting sun. Her eyes glowed with an eldritch purple light swirled with hints of green in their depths. Her back and submerged, finned tail were covered with red scales, while on her belly and arms the scales faded to white. Around the young naga's neck was a curious piece of jewelry, a solid gold disc with a stylized, rayed sun made of rubies on its surface.

Around the siren the waves churned and first a few, then dozens of naga myrmidons emerged from the water as she sang. Golden tridents and spears gripped in their scaly hands, they slithered into the village square, where all the elves were gathered for the festival. Entranced by the siren's song the elves didn't react, or even move to defend themselves as the naga struck. Golden-hued weapons rose and fell, and then rose again stained red with fresh blood, and still the elves stood song-struck and helpless.

Tears shimmering faintly with violet light fell down the scaled cheeks of the naga siren Anastaza Bloodmist as the myrmidons conducted their grim slaughter until there was not a living elf in Redrush Village. Her song ended once the killing was done and the naga warriors began bearing bodies back to the ocean, dumping them into the water as the sun slipped below the horizon and moonlight stained the village and ocean silver.

Countless tiny forms slipped through the water around Anastaza Bloodmist and the myrmidons. Diminutive naga young, no bigger than the siren's arm but already with bright eyes and mouths full of sharp teeth, tore at the elven corpses, rending and eating, feeding with single-minded abandon. Some of the tiny naga were red-scaled like Anastaza, while others were green and purple.

Anastaza's head turned as another siren, larger than her, emerged from the water. This one was more muscular and carried a golden broadsword. Without a word the new siren, her finned crest green and her scales purple, began chopping up the corpses to make them easier for the young to eat.

With their work done, the myrmidons retreated beneath the waves, while the sirens remained in the shallows with their young until the grim feast was over and only bones remained in the water. Then they too slipped beneath the waves surrounded by schools of young, returning to the depths once more.


End file.
